


The Athlete and The Loner

by criesinenochian



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - High School, Canon Gay Relationship, Cigarettes, Everyone Is Gay, Feel-good, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied Relationships, Is this a kissing book?, M/M, Oh God Yes, Rated T for Trashmouth, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22419916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/criesinenochian/pseuds/criesinenochian
Summary: Tyrell Wellick is popular and insanely hot and ... Bored. Yeah, he may be able to make any girl melt or fit in with every social group, but he still feels incomplete. So, when his relationship with his cheerleading girlfriend (of course) ends abruptly, it's no coincidence he takes a liking to a strange boy who lurks in the shadows.Hint, Elliot is that strange boy, duh.
Relationships: Darlene Alderson/Dominique DiPierro, Elliot Alderson & Tyrell Wellick, Elliot Alderson/Tyrell Wellick
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	1. Break ups and shared cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

> I am super obsessed with Tyrelliot but don't know how to write them................. SO here is my first attempt. Yes, this is trash, but do I care? NOPE

"Please don't forget to do the topic sentence for your essays this weekend everyone! I will be checking for completion on Sunday at midnight. You have been warned." Mr. Goddard announced, his voice projecting as loud as he could muster with the sound of each student shuffling out of the classroom. Well, all but one. The only student who talked to him and every other teacher at this school. 

Tyrell Wellick, also known as everyone's favorite, Mr. Perfect, Carleton High's best lacrosse player, a social butterfly, and everyone's wet dream.

"Hey, Mr. G. What are you doing this weekend? Any plans with your husband?" He asked, his voice always so kind with the authority figures. 

Mr. Goddard smiled with a weary sigh, straightening a stack of papers on his desktop. He shook his head as he set the papers down, supporting his weight on his fingertips. He looked back up at Tyrell with an exhausted smile. Tyrell grinned back. 

"Oh, you know, the usual wine and reality TV binging. What about you? Any dates with... Ah, what's her name again?" Mr. Goddard furrowed his brows, exactly like he does when he is thinking hard on a subject. Tyrell clears his throat and feels his smile fall when he thinks of her. His girlfriend. The person he is supposed to love and have endless affection for. Someone to support him, smile at him, play with like they were still children. Her. He sighs and nods. 

"Joanna." Mr. Goddard snaps and points his finger at Tyrell like a lightbulb went off in his head. He smiles again and crosses his arms in front of his chest, standing back as if he were cracking his back, looking expectantly towards Tyrell for an answer. Honestly, Tyrell couldn't think of anytime he and Joanna actually spent outside of school, let alone a date. She was never really into public displays of affection or any of that stuff, always brushing Tyrell off whenever he asked if she wanted a hug or if he leaned in for a kiss. Joanna has to initiate the action in order for it to follow through, which was strange considering she liked Tyrell tying her up and slapping her... Hard. But that was something else completely. 

"Yeah, I don't think she likes dates. I've offered everything and anything, twice! She doesn't care for it. But that's okay, we focus on our work. It pays off." Tyrell suggests, trying to explain it satisfactorily to himself and to Mr. Goddard, more to himself. He hated how she often pushed him away whenever he would wrap his arms around her or shrug off his clingyness with a furrowed brow and sigh. Tyrell wished she would think of him more instead of using him for her benefit. 

Mr. Goddard sighed in a sadly understanding way, nodding and reaching out to pat his shoulder. Tyrell gulped back the rising lump in his throat and forced himself to think of whenever she smiled, felt calm around him. He exhaled and tried to relax with those thoughts flooding his mind, filling his head with false joy. He never really wondered why Joanna didn't give him butterflies or that dizzy feeling everyone says their significant other should give them. He always backed it up by telling himself it was just because they were young. But then again, he straps her down to a bed at least once a week and calls her a slut. So, age isn't really the problem, at all. 

"I uh, better get going. The weekend awaits! Bye, Mr. Goddard. Tell me who Beth gives the rose to on Monday." Yes, Tyrell has seen The Bachelor and The Bachelorette before. It's interesting to him in a white trashy kind of way. (He also finds it amusing and entertaining but nobody had to know that.) 

Tyrell waved gently as he spun around and out of the English classroom, gripping his palms into his backpack straps like he was an Archie comic book character. He felt like one, having a beautiful girlfriend, endless friends, epic reputation, and kick ass grades, surely a 4.3 gpa by now. Kids always wave to him in the halls, like now, people from each clique of this school all at least give him a chin nod. Tyrell has always loved being on top. He likes having control over situations and being comfortable in those positions. Every now and then it was nice to let go of the steering wheel and let life take him somewhere new, but that mostly lead him into trouble or misjudged boredom. 

He stopped by his locker and swiveled the dial to each number in his combination, a natural frown resting on his dreary face. It was tiring being so liked amongst everybody in his senior class. Well, almost everyone. There were some cheerleaders who hated him because of when he accidentally ran over one of the girls' binder with his Jeep. Or some of the loner kids absolutely hate how happy he is all the time. Not all, like this one kid, Elliot he thinks is his name, seems quiet all day, everyday. Now that he ponders it, Tyrell has never heard Elliot talk to him or anyone once in all his four years of attending Carleton High. Not once. And that was saying something because he even got one of the D&D members to happily present an English project with him. 

Tyrell's frown deepened as he wondered all about Elliot. Why he always wore that same black hoodie, why he always seemed so devoid of emotion, why he slouched, certainly why he never talked or smiled or laughed or did anything. Tyrell slung a book on his arm and slammed his locker door shut with a clang, walking off with his mind racing. How has he never tried to befriend Elliot before? Certainly he'd have seen this kid around at least in a class they shared or just around the halls, right? Tyrell racked his brain for mental images of every kid he could think of that attended Carleton High School. Of course, he wasn't surprised when he couldn't come up with anyone. The only "loner" at this school that Tyrell had barely ever talked to was Leon, but that was because Leon only talked about Seinfeld or basketball. Otherwise, every other kid had waved at him in the very least. 

His pondering was interrupted. 

"Tyrell. Glad I caught you." It was Joanna, the one and only. Her voice was forced and she seemed like she had been dared to ask him whatever she was about to ask. Note, she only stood as awkwardly as she did right now whenever she was about to ask Tyrell if she had, "been a bad girl", and so on. He knew her every move by now. It was like a graceful dance between them, no real emotion, just them taking what they want or need from each other. It was draining. 

"Listen... Lately, I've been thinking about whatever we have going..." She started, biting her lip and trying hard not to engage in eye contact. "And it's not working. I know you don't think it is either. I can tell you're bored of me, or just with life in general. But either way, I'm breaking up with you." Her tone remained formal throughout the whole speech she had delivered. Tyrell sighed deeply, trying to react in a way she could handle. Obviously causing a scene was out of the picture. 

"But... No. No, come on. We have something good going. Don't we?" He didn't want to beg, but the tears tinging his eyes begged to differ. 

She shrugged and stood casually, almost like a deflated balloon as she said, "C'mon, Ty. You know we aren't clicking. Truth is, we probably never have. All we do is use each other. This can't come as a surprise to you... I just don't want you anymore." 

Joanna was right about that. Well, she was right about everything she was stating. Their little fling was dead by now, long gone, and they both knew it. Tyrell honestly never felt romantic feelings for her, yes he found her attractive and she was sweet to him, but she never made him feel dazed by just her appearance. She never made his bottom lip quiver from her beauty. She never made him feel like how he was supposed to feel in a relationship. Tyrell sighed and looked down at the ground, shoving his tears back so he wouldn't risk showing the wrong emotion. He nodded his head and gulped, that same lump in his throat rising up again. 

"There's nothing I can do?" He was purely defeated. Joanna shrugged, her shoulders faltering and her eyes closing remorsefully. She shook her head before opening her lightly colored eyes to look at him with some form of pity. He hated that look. This was going to eat at him for the rest of the week, or maybe even the next couple of weeks. It seems Mr. Goddard was wrong asking about taking her on dates, now she would want hardly anything of the sort. Tyrell looked back up to her eyes, watching her face force these false remorseful expressions, when in fact she can't feel any of them for him. Like she said before, they only used each other. And as much as he tried to convince himself that they were just not like other couples, the truth was neither of them had what it took to be compatible. Tyrell held his arms out for a hug, even though she hates them, and sees her reluctantly and definitely awkwardly return the squeeze. 

He holds her there for a decent couple of seconds, hoping to get his last few licks in. With a heavy sigh and a loosened grip, Tyrell let's go of Joanna and looks her in the eyes again, smiling this time. 

"Hejdå älskling." He said, watching the corner of her mouth tug her lips upwards with amusement. They were the only two students who knew and fluently spoke Swedish at Carleton High. It was (past tense) their thing. Joanna smiled with pursed lips and turned around, walking to the doors exposed to the parking lot. Once she closed the door behind her, Tyrell felt so damn lonely. His whole body sagged and his face drained of any cheery color he wore around everyone else. He just desperately wanted to go home and cry. 

Following out the door, he storms down the concrete sidewalk to the curb, watching as most student drivers drove off and left only him and some few cars left in the parking lot. Tyrell sadly sat on the edge of the curb and set his book beside him, resting his forearms on his jean covered knees. Joanna had really dumped him, on a Friday, too. She couldn't even wait to make it any other day, considering she knew today was his favorite day of the week. Cruel, cruel girl... Tyrell huffed out a sigh and frowned down at the pavement, mindlessly thinking of how alone he felt. How alone he really was. Yeah, he was friendly to almost everyone and many, many people (boys and girls) have said multiple times how attractive he was, but he was so alone. 

He screwed his eyes closed tightly, desperate to stop the tears from falling. His father always told him not to show emotion or it could be used against him. That stuck with him, all throughout high school and up until now, all he could think of when he was sad was to not cry in public. Not where someone could see him. The last thing he needed was to be seen as weak, or vulnerable and a pansy. Tyrell was anything but. He was the star lacrosse player and he was not going to let Joanna's harsh words cut into him too deep. But as much as he let himself believe he was all big and bold, Tyrell knew deep down that he would feel horrible later tonight, only when he was isolated from the world laying face up on his bed would he let himself cry. 

The sound of soft padding footsteps lifted his thoughts, putting his guard up. His breath hitched as he looked up to see a student wearing literally all black walking hesitantly toward him with a deep frown. The kid had big eyes and tanned, olive skin, not too dark. He stopped two feet away from Tyrell, staring down at him with the same resting face of drained emotion and absolute blankness. Tyrell stared back at him with a confused frowning face, wondering what the hell this random guy was doing just looking at him. It was someone he'd never seen before, either. How sketchy. 

"Hey." The guy blurted nonchalantly. Tyrell swallowed some spit and tried to relax his face, still admiring the strange boy's own features. Dark, brown and black swirled eyes and pink lips. Wide jaw that complimented his face and an overall strangely pleasing face. Tyrell cursed at himself, his subconscious kicking him for looking at him in that manner, so soon after Joanna. 

"Hey." He returned, offering a sad wave of his hand. The kid shuffled his hands in his hoodie's pockets and glanced around anxiously, his eyes wide and alert. He was probably looking for teachers or any kind of authority figure. Tyrell watched, somewhat intrigued by the strange guy, as he took a timid seat away from him, yet still close enough to talk to him comfortably. Tyrell waited for him to initiate the conversation. 

"I'm Elliot." Tyrell didn't think this would be the infamous Elliot, an emo looking gamer with a raspy voice. He gulped and blurted out the part of his mind that had it's jaw dropping. For some reason, this awkward kid was stirring something up inside of Tyrell's heart, something weird. He didn't like it. He felt like he had to throw up. This was Elliot? Tyrell cleared his throat and stood up, politely keeping his distance and waving shyly. Elliot pushed a small smile onto his cheeks and returned the wave, making this meeting that much more awkward. But yet again, for some reason, Tyrell didn't want him to leave. He adjusted his footing and stood casually. 

"Tyrell. You probably already knew that, though." He said sounding friendly enough. Elliot nodded. 

It was silent now. The two of them stole glances at each other while also managing to look everywhere else but each other for some time. Tyrell wanted to admire all of this boy's features and get to know him, understand him and talk to him. 

Elliot broke the silence. 

"Want a smoke?" He offered, his voice was lower than before and he sounded just as exhausted and sad as Tyrell felt. The taller boy looked over at him and sighed, and with a defeated nod Elliot fumbled to get a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. 

The skinny boy pulled one out, held it up for Tyrell, and already had his thumb ready on the lighter. Tyrell's eyes flitted back and forth between Elliot and the cigarette, worried because the last thing he needed right now was to get addicted to fucking nicotine. Elliot nudged the cigarette closer to his lips, as if urging him on, and Tyrell leaned forward, closing his lips around the small cylindrical death stick. Elliot grinned, ever so slightly, and lit up the cigarette with the chipped lighter, keeping his large, blue eyes focused on the lighting embers. Tyrell cursed himself mentally before inhaling. It wasn't that bad, so thankfully he could tell he wouldn't develop a craving for it. The taller boy lifted it from his mouth and offered it to the strange kid beside him. 

The two sat in silence, minus all the natural noises around them like the few cars driving by the main road, some kids walking by the sidewalk every now and then. Tyrell gazed over at Elliot with pinched brows, confused as to why he was talking to him and sharing a cigarette with him on their first meeting. It was strange, yes, but Tyrell had a feeling that this wouldn't be the last time they talked. 

"How come I've never seen you before?" Tyrell asked, taking a long drag from the cigarette before handing it back over to Elliot, gulping when their fingers nudged against one another's. 

Elliot licked at his lip and squinted out onto the distance, turning his head to glance at Tyrell with a smile suggesting he knew something Tyrell didn't. That knowing grin. He shook his head and stared back at the scene before them. 

"Maybe you haven't looked hard enough." Elliot replied, sucking in one last hit and smudging the cigarette into the sidewalk, sighing as he did so. The loner stood up and Tyrell's head shot up, following his every movement. Tyrell could swear he looked desperate, hoping he wouldn't walk away. Elliot gave him a small, timid wave before turning his back to the jock and walking off down the sidewalk. Tyrell felt his breath hitch and his heart's jaw dropped, sad he was now actually alone. He watched the boy walk off, smaller and smaller in the distance. 

Tyrell thought back on whatever had just happened, waving and sharing a drug he would never consider taking until now, stealing glances and feeling his cheeks heat up whenever he caught him looking too. Tyrell raked his hands through his combed back hair, closing his eyes in an attempt to rid himself of Elliot's image, his thin frame and big eyes, his awkward grins and slightly hunched over appearance. Tyrell screwed his eyes shut and breathed in and out, in and out, wondering why the fuck this emo kid was now the only thing on his mind, as opposed to his now ex-girlfriend or the fact that he smoked a cigarette. What was so special about this short loner that made Tyrell's gut clench and heart skip a few beats? 

Well, fuck. Whatever it was, this was certainly not a one time thing, and he would make sure of that. 

xx


	2. Skateboards and awkward glances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrell is going insane. All he can think about is Elliot and he has no idea why. But, it certainly gets awkward when he runs into him and his friend at a skate park...

Throwing a small ball in a steady tempo might seem stress relieving and simple, but after an hour of doing such a thing, it was exhausting and mind numbing. Well, Tyrell could still only concentrate on the two things being that small hand ball bouncing perfectly off of his wall and into his palm, and Elliot. Oh, Elliot. The boy who offered to share a cigarette with Tyrell and sit with him one Friday afternoon. The lacrosse player could not stop racking his mind of those days events over and over and over in his head, stuck on thinking of those ten minutes sitting next to Elliot. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, really, just Tyrell overthinking and confused on why this boy was trapped in his thoughts. 

He used to think that he would marry Joanna, raise a small family with her, live in some nice townhouse, and have a surprisingly impressive job at a young age. But now that she has left him, he doesn't know what he's going to live up to. Hell, he might shock everyone who has set expectations for him and become a fucking drug lord. Tyrell always joked how fun it seemed, but now he should give it real thought since his motivational source (Joanna) has left the chat. 

Tap. 

Tap. 

Tap. 

The ball continued to set a rhythm in his head. Tyrell hasn't moved from his bed in seven hours, only twisting slightly to get in a multiple comfortable positions amongst the sheets. No matter how much he moved, he still felt odd, unsettled. Elliot was racing around his brain and hadn't slowed down. Tyrell wanted to get up and do something productive, but what would he even do? Walk? Well, there was a calming trail by the skate park he and Joanna would walk whenever they actually did see each other outside of school, which was hardly ever. Tyrell caught the perfectly sized ball in his hand, gripping into it and offsetting the even metronome he had set for the passed hour. He sat up, thinking if he would actually leave his house or remain planted to his comforter. 

He chose option one, kicking off of his bed and scanning his room for a pair of sneakers. Time to reignite past memories of his ex-girlfriend while being surrounded by nature! 

With a loud creak, the front door was closed and Tyrell was strolling down his driveway, looking down at his shoes while walking. He tried to think of how Joanna breaking up with him didn't hurt him as bad as he made it sound in his head, but truth was, he had always felt more for her than she did. Tyrell always wanted to be more than she allowed. He wanted them to share sweet kisses instead of bruising ones, and he wanted to hold her close instead of gripping her jaw to tell her how much of a slut she was. He wanted to kiss her cheeks and watch her blush instead of dragging a knife along her thigh and slapping her when she flinched. He wanted it to be different. But now it didn't even matter because she dumped him. 

Tyrell sighed to himself, strolling silently down the side of his street. This road was always rustling and bustling with cars and noise and homeless people running hastily across the lanes. It was hardly ever quiet. He enjoyed the constant movement all around him. It soothed him ever since he was a small child. All the noise was built in his head as a reliever. 

His silent stroll was disrupted when his back pocket vibrated. Tyrell huffed a sigh and slid his phone out, clicking it to life and scanning the screen. His eyes widened as he stopped walking, standing frozen as he looked at the notification. Joanna texted him. She barely did that even when they were together, having the need only to tell him to come over for some fun, as she called it. Which was exactly what she was texting him about now. She was asking if he was busy, which meant she would ask if he wanted to come over, which meant she wanted him to fuck and choke her. He gulped and kept walking forward, tucking his phone back in his pocket after switching his phone off. 

Joanna texting him so soon after the break up (one day and around eleven hours to be exact) sounded accurate. They had taken a break before all this, and even then she called him asking if he was busy only two days after she said they needed space. Long story short, they got back together that very night. Tyrell now realized how often she used him for his... Services. Almost like she only dated him for his harsh backhand and knot-tying skills. 

Tyrell exhaled a low sigh and looked up at the scenery around him, taking a turn into the grass to cut across a field to get to the trail quicker. He squinted his eyes as he looked up ahead, checking to see if anybody else was in the general vicinity. He could tell that few people were hanging around the skate park beside a small part of the trail. He didn't mind, they were just doing their own thing. Chances are he'd wave and continue on down the path to overthink everything about his life with a negative mindset still. No problem. As he walked closer and closer to the white colored rocks indicating where the path was, he looked up again to see if he recognized the skaters. And fuck did he. 

Not only were they two kids who attended Carleton, which was weird enough, one of them was none other than Elliot. He stopped dead in his tracks, admiring the shorter boy as he talked to a skating boy, he thinks Leon. Tyrell gulped and looked down at the grass with a you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me look, cursing himself for deciding to leave his bed. He shook his head and continued walking towards the trail. 

As he stepped onto the white stained rocks, he noticed how silent it got. No one was talking anymore and Leon had stopped skating. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Tyrell tried to walk faster and avoid talking to the boy who had been chasing off his other thoughts all day and night. He thought that if he would never see him again, maybe he'd stop crowding his mind, but then again, he wanted to see him again. He wanted to sit next to him again and stare out into anything, as long as he wouldn't be alone. He heard mumbling and then footsteps on the concrete coating as the platform for the skate park. 

"Tyrell?" An all too familiar voice shouted at him as a question. The lacrosse player stopped again and took a deep breath before turning to face the park, looking like he was trying to be confused as to who was calling him even though he knew exactly who it was. 

"Elliot? Hey." Tyrell answered, plastering a smile to his face. He stepped closer to the park, about five feet away from Elliot and Leon, who looked like he couldn't care less what was going on. 

"What're you doing here?" Elliot asked, his voice gravelly like the rocks on the path. Tyrell looked around his surroundings and then back to the loner boys. 

"Just walking." He said. 

Tyrell felt so tense. This was one of the last things he would have pictured happening on his Saturday afternoon. But of course, life always likes fucking with him like this. He looks over at Leon as the boy sets his skateboard back down on the ground and pushes himself off towards a small ramp. Tyrell gulps and glances back over to a silent and tense Elliot. They both look as awkward as they feel. 

"Cool." It was a late response and now the air was sticky with a weird vibe. 

Elliot stuffed his hands in the same black hoodie he wore yesterday and licked his top lip. Tyrell watched his tongue, feeling mesmorised. He fucking hated himself for feeling his stomach melt at the sight. Elliot stood and kicked at a rock by his foot, his eyes looking down at his shoe. Tyrell looked over at the rest of the trail, contemplating if he should walk off with a wave or stay and start a conversation with this enigma of a boy. He shrugs to himself and steps closer to the skating park, mentally picking option two. 

"So, you skate?" He starts, glancing back at Leon doing some kick flip trick on a worn in board. Elliot's head whips back up to look at Tyrell, following his gaze and squinting at Leon before turning back to the taller boy and chuckling. Tyrell nearly melts at the soft sound. 

"Oh, hell no. I just talk to Leon." He states, biting away his smile and rocking back and forth on his heels while holding eye contact with Tyrell. 

"Oh, cool." 

And it was silent again. Tyrell wanted to walk up to him and ask if he wanted a smoke, even though he didn't much care for the drug, he wanted to share it again with Elliot. It was a weird feeling, but it was something like a throb in his lower abdomen whenever he was around the loner. Something he'd never felt before. Something strange but also something he didn't want to go away. It made him blush easier. 

Elliot tilted his head and his mouth parted, like he was thinking a question and getting ready to ask it, but then he snapped back to normal, clearing his throat. Tyrell waited for him to speak again, his fingers fidgeting with one another. 

"I should get back to Leon." He said. Tyrell felt still, frozen. He wished he wouldn't say that but they couldn't just stare at each other for however long. He nodded at Elliot and smiled again, holding his left hand up to wave him goodbye. With a fluid motion of his hand, Tyrell watches the shorter boy walk off in the opposite direction towards his friend. Tyrell sighs and heads off down the path of rocks into the woods, wind brushing through branches and whispering nothings in Tyrell's ear. And just like that, he's alone again. 

Deep down the path by now, Tyrell gazes up in wonderment at each stretching tree and around at the wide hills and leaves and flowers. He and Joanna always loved this trail because of how secluded it was and how many flowers littered the nature around them. It was always so breathtaking. Calming. Peaceful. It was a pleasuring sight and soothed his nerves whenever he got too stressed out. 

With each step, he thought of Elliot. How he licked his lips and how he carried himself. How he chuckled and smiled a very small but noticeable smile. How he tilted his head and how he gazed over at Tyrell. Maybe it was just him overthinking, or maybe it was Tyrell letting himself fall for a strange boy. He liked the way he felt whenever Elliot looked at him, his brown eyes staring into the depths of him. Almost like he could see his soul or read his mind. Something he couldn't recall feeling with Joanna. Ever. But then again, Joanna is a fairly difficult person, so they aren't much to compare. She always acted like he annoyed her during their day at school, all distant and eye rolling, then so very needy at her house when he would out those hands to good use. 

Tyrell gazed up at the sky once the trees revealed the same opening back around the skate park, admiring the puffy clouds scattered across the expanse of the cerulean sky. He grinned, thankful he decided to leave his house now. But as if the universe cursed him, he saw Elliot again. Hugging some brown haired girl with shorts and boots on. 

Tyrell frowned feeling his whole mood drop. 

Maybe he really was overthinking because Elliot held the girl close for more than a few seconds before letting her go. She had heart shaped sunglasses perched on her nose and wore a Rolling Stones shirt. She was attractive, sure, and she was smiling at Elliot. Tyrell felt a lump rise in his throat before he sighed and continued walking, turning hastily into the field to get home as soon as he possibly could. Tyrell didn't know why he felt so intensely about this. He didn't even know Elliot. He had some stupid crush on him, and now he didn't know how to act. 

Tyrell furrowed his brows, thinking hard before reaching for his phone, turning it on and rereading the text Joanna sent him nearly an hour ago. It was now sundown, a smooth swirl of colors stretching horizontally across the sky from the lavish sunset. He began texting her back. 

Joanna lived about two blocks away from Tyrell, making it easy for him to walk over whenever she texted him saying how horny she was. He strolled down the road, watching few cars drive by now, the darkening night air getting quieter and quieter. As he passed his house, he thought of how Elliot was just some kid who probably saw him stressed out and thought to be nice, offering him a cigarette. Nothing more. With closed eyes and a sigh, he convinced himself he had overthought everything about Elliot and made up a whole crush to cope with Joanna breaking up with him. It felt like the truth, and he was on his way to her house now, so he needed a clear mind. 

With a few more minutes of walking silently down streets and passing streetlights, he walked up Joanna's driveway. He stepped onto her front steps and stood in front of her door, breathing in and out steadily before knocking on the large door. It was a few moments before she answered, a small smile tugging at her lips. She bit her bottom lip and let Tyrell in, kissing his jaw and closing the door behind him. 

"My parents are at some dinner function. Won't be home until midnight." She muttered in between kissing at his neck and jawline. Tyrell sighed and let himself get lost in the momentary sensation of feeling loved. He moaned and grabbed her firmly by the hips, hoisting her up against his chest and walking towards her bedroom, thinking of only what he'd do to her rather than what Elliot was doing with that other girl. 

Anything to take his mind off of that hollow feeling of being alone.

xx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(


	3. Relapses and wasted time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his night with Joanna, Tyrell feels worse than before, a deepening pit of loneliness consuming him. He tries to find things to keep himself busy, but still can't get his mind off of Elliot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Tyrell draws in this story <<3

Tyrell steps slowly and quietly out of Joanna's front door, making sure to close it as silently as humanly possible so her mother and father don't wake up. He bites the inside of his cheek and carefully sets the door closed, letting out a sharp breath as he walks off into the pitch black night. The soft, orange glow of each Street lamp clear a path for him, making sure a cruising car doesn't ram into him, even if he might appreciate that greatly. Not even two hours ago, he was standing by Joanna's bed gazing onto her tied up body, helpless, and cockily teasing her. He called her filthy names and did everything she melts for. He bit into her thighs like a sadistic animal and slapped across her cheek whenever she made a sound. 

If he were to say he didn't like acting like that, he would certainly be fooling himself. Tyrell knew that he was a sadist, and honestly he was perfectly fine with it. He wasn't afraid to say how seeing Joanna helpless and in fear of him gave him a rush. Well, used to. Now that they've broken up and he's realized how she never really loved him, bruising her soft skin and knotting ropes to her flesh was only partially satisfying to him. He wanted nothing more than to feel real love and safely explore his fantasies with them, but honestly, he didn't really want to bruise his significant other. He wanted to hold them and play with their hair and kiss gently at their face while they fell asleep. That's what he wanted. 

But in the meantime, he'd settle for strapping up his ex to her bed and sexually embarrassing her. She loved it, so whatever works. 

He huffed a shrug of relief when he spotted his empty driveway, thanking the universe that his father had left to do whatever he does. Now Tyrell had the house to himself. He stepped along the rocks in the driveway and up to the front door, twisting the knob open. Warm air greeted him as he closed the door, hung up his jacket, and walked hastily up the stairs to his bedroom. Tyrell couldn't help but let his mind drift think of whatever his recently friendly loner was doing. Was he still with that brunette? Were they together? That would explain why it always got so awkward whenever Tyrell would look at him for all those lingering seconds after one of them spoke. He couldn't help it. Tyrell Wellick had a crush. 

But Elliot could care less, Tyrell assumed. 

It made the most sense to him. Or maybe Tyrell's gut feeling was right the whole time, suggesting he and Elliot had some strange connection. That the two of them felt some kind of pull to one another, also known as attraction. But that was Tyrell being a hopeful and naïve teenager. Obviously. 

He opened and closed his door and happily flopped down onto his bed, a loud slap filling the room. He sighs into his sheet, so damn happy to finally be home and allowed to think his own thoughts. Although, that meant he would most likely wonder about Elliot and picture what he was doing and then get unfathomably sad about it. Tyrell really did feel like a stupid girl crushing on some jock way out of her league, wanting nothing to do with her. Why did he get so excited thinking of Elliot? Seriously what was it about him? What about this specific loner made a kid like Tyrell so weak in the knees? 

Tyrell groaned loudly, cursing himself mentally for having so many questions flush into his mind. He just wanted peace and quiet. And love. God, did he want love. He wanted someone to talk to for hours and never get bored of. Was that too much to ask for? Tyrell rolled onto his back, staring mindlessly up at his blank ceiling. He couldn't drain all the thoughts of Elliot if he tried.

He glanced over at his alarm clock, his eyes widening momentarily when he sees it's already midnight. Had he really stayed at Joanna's for three hours? Damn. That was actually impressive, he thought. Normally they'd "hang out" for about an hour to two hours and then she'd kick him out.politely. Tyrell sat up and looked around his room, looking thoughtfully at his dresser and then the contents on his desk, his thoughts clicking into place when he saw his exposed sketchbook. It had been a while since he'd drawn, so what the hell. 

He stood up and walked over to the desk, sitting and scooting comfortably in place. He picked up a nearby pencil, checking for an eraser before gazing silently down onto the blank, white page. His thoughts raced, battling each other for dominance, when really they were all the same, just different images. Tyrell closed his eyes and sighed, a pathetic idea drenching his mind. He opened them back up, squinting down onto the page, thinking how he would do this. And then it clicked. He started sketching the outline, making sure he didn't press down hard on the pencil. Well over an hour had passed before he noticed how nicely the picture was coming along. He was beginning to go over some fine line's in bold, finalizing the portrait. And there it was, a black and white drawing of Elliot. 

Tyrell had drawn him looking off into some other angle, hoodie on and hood up, mouth frowning like usual. It was perfect. Well, of course it wasn't perfect, but it was a good enough distraction for Tyrell to get his mind off of doing nothing. He signed the work with his signature TW before holding it up and admiring it from a 12" distance. It was a good piece of artwork. Nice shading, not too heavy handed, and the proportions were truly showing how much he was improving. Tyrell nodded, proud of his handiwork. 

He swiveled around in his chair, catching a glimpse of the red, glowing alarm clock's digits telling him it was just passed one in the morning. 

"Ugh." He groaned. Tyrell still wasn't tired, not even in the slightest. Maybe if he turned off the lights and laid on his stomach surrounded by his pillows and blankets he would be, but he didn't want to sleep. For some reason, he was actually really hungry. Starved, even. Tyrell Rose from his chair and walked to his door, not worrying about all the noise he was making since his dad still hadn't come home. He wasn't concerned. His dad always left and came back sometimes a day later, so this was normal to him. He trotted down the stairs thinking of what he could lazily whip up in the kitchen that met all of his craving requirements. At this moment, he really wanted pretzels and something with kale. Weird, but the truth. 

Tyrell danced around the kitchen, opening cabinets and delicately decorating a plate with some extravagant mixture of foods. He had made some neat, small salad with some type of cheesy mashed potato mixture. Damn did it look good. The kitchen smelt wonderfully of healthy foods and Tyrell smiled, happy he could finally enjoy some time of this night. He took his plate up stairs to his room and sat back down in the swirling chair, careful not to set the plate down on the drawing.

As he ate, he starting thinking about his dad and whatever the fuck he was doing at 2 in the morning. Tyrell wished he would be around more, but he also didn't enjoy how tense he made Tyrell feel, like he always had to be doing something perfect even if it was just him tying his shoe laces. He had always struggled to make ends meet with his dad, and since he's hardly ever home, Tyrell has mostly come to terms with the fact that he will never truly please his father. That man was too demanding for anyone to give him the slightest smile. And even though Tyrell has a 4.3 gpa, his father made it a point that it wasn't a 5.0 and completely shattered him for a couple days. He wishes he could get it right and hear his dad tell him that he was proud of him, or that he loved him, even. But that was too much to ask for when he needed to be focusing on himself and start striving for absolute perfection. 

Tyrell finished his food, looking down absentmindedly at the desk in front of him, his thoughts convincing him that he would never get his father's love because he wasn't perfect. He knew it was harsh to let one person's opinion steer your life, but getting a father's approval was something else entirely, and that was a known fact. Tyrell sighed and let a tear slip from his eye down to the crease of his nose. The truth was, no matter how hard he tried, he would never live up to his dad's standards. He just had to cope with that and start living on his own terms. Tyrell shrugged as he wiped off the wet, trailing tear. He hated crying. 

"You aren't perfect, but it's okay." He told himself, taking in slow, deep breaths in an attempt to calm his depressed nerves. 

"You are not perfect," he started, screwing his eyes shut to prevent more tears from falling. He raised his hands to his face and bent over like an ashamed puppy dog. "It's okay." 

"It's okay." He said again, forcing those two words to stitch up all his overflowing sadness. He had to shut all this down before his father got back home. Tyrell would throw himself (head first) off of a bridge if his dad caught him sobbing in his loneliness. He sat back up, letting out a ragged breath before looking down at his emptied plate, slowly feeling an anger in him bubble up. He hated how he lived like this. In fear of his father. Dad's were supposed to love their sons and make them feel acknowledged. So why was Tyrell's dad different? Why did he have to always break his back in an effort to please him? Why was Tyrell's life so fucking difficult? He gripped the edge of the plate and in a quick surge of rage, smashed it onto the floor beside him, cringing at the sudden crack. It shattered and flew out, reaching decent portions of his room, the glass splayed out like a popped water balloon. 

He took a deep breath and raked his hands through his hair, swirling in his chair to see the damage he had just made. Glass was everywhere. Fuck. 

He stood up and sighed, sagging down to the floor but hovering on his feet so his knees wouldn't crunch into the broken glass. Tyrell started picking up the bigger shards of glass, collecting them in his palm. And suddenly he heard the front door close, his hand squeezing tightly out of instinct and each shard of glass cut into his palm. He gasped and dropped the now bloody pieces of the plate. His hand gushed blood from multiple slashes across his palm, all deep and long cuts. He hissed a curse and tried to think of a reasonable thing to do, like how to explain this to his father or how to clean this the fuck up. Tyrell's eyes scanned the floor, assessing how bad this probably looked, and then quickly standing up and walking out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

He watched his father walk to the opening of the stairs and look up at Tyrell, a frown decorating his face. The lacrosse player offered a wave with his clean hand, the one oozing blood tucked behind his back. His dad shrugged and walked off towards his bedroom, thankfully not on the second floor, leaving Tyrell alone and starting to feel dizzy. How much blood was corsing out of him? Apparently a fuck ton, a puddle already developing onto the hardwood floor by his feet. He cursed under his breath and rushed into the nearest bathroom, switching on the light and holding his bloodied hand over the ivory sink. His eyes widened crazily as he gaped onto his ground beef looking hand. 

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! 

He turned on the cold water and sucked in a breath at the contact, his cuts throbbing and his eyes sealing tightly, his head turned away from the sink. He looked back and turned off the water once his hand only look pink from the stained blood. He raised it up to examine it, and thick rivers of red streamed out of the deep wounds, seemingly endless amounts of it pouring into his palm and down his wrist. He hissed again and lunged for a towel, soaking it up before pressing it onto his hand. Hard. 

How were the cuts this deep? He watched the towel gather blood in expanding circles and bleed through the fabric. Tyrell tried to think of a joke to make this seem under control, but literally nothing was funny right now. He would just stretch his hand and try to bleed to death but he wanted Mr. Goddard to read the essay he had beautifully written last night. Well, that was kind of a joke. Tyrell smirked for the briefest of seconds before his face pinched back into a worried scowl. He folded in some of the corner's of the towel to collect more blood and finally clot but it kept bleeding through and dribbling down his wrist. He reached for another towel and slapped it harshly down over the crimson one. What a fun way to spend his Sunday morning, he thought. Of course he would be the one to shatter a plate and then proceed to cut his palm and nearly bleed out at 2 in the morning. 

He could already tell today would be a great day! 

With a huffed sigh and furrowed brows, he slid to the floor and sat against the wall, waiting for the pressure on his stinging palm to allow the blood to clot up. Tyrell gazed mindlessly off at the wall, thinking of how much he hated his life currently. 

And then, naturally, he somehow began thinking of Elliot. It was strange how often this anti-social kid came into his mind after just a few encounters, but Tyrell couldn't shake him from his head. He didn't really want to. All the small smiles, the gazing eyes, the black hoodie, they reminded him of how completely opposite the two were. But it only made him want Elliot more. The way he smiled made Tyrell's cheeks flush, and the way Elliot stood like he was a nobody made him so much better than everybody, and his eyes... Tyrell was too distracted by that one short, blue eyed boy to even notice his hand had stopped bleeding. 

xx


	4. Bandaged hands and lingered talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrell has a hard time explaining to everyone how minor the wrapped up hand injuries actually are, that is everyone but Elliot. He was nowhere to be seen that day, and Tyrell felt like a lost kid in a carnival trying to keep his eye out for the shorter boy. And then he does find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is ass writing but ENJOY IT :))

"Let me guess... Paper cut?" Mr. Goddard asked, a humorous edge to his voice. Tyrell pushed a smile onto his face, hoping he wouldn't start a conversation about it like literally everyone has today. Hearing different people ask the same question over and over was starting to get more annoying than the actual cuts. Although, nothing would be worse than having to clean up all the broken glass shards with his least dominant hand for about an hour in the early morning. At least his father hadn't questioned him, that would've been the end of him. 

"More like a shattered plate." Tyrell replied, watching some students walk passed him and Mr. Goddard to leave the school. He tried to briefly check each of their faces to see if he would catch Elliot by any chance. 

Sadly, he hasn't seen him at all today. 

Tyrell shrugs and focuses his attention back to his English teacher, watching Mr. Goddard's face twist like he's seen someone get pinched right in the face. Tyrell didn't think the plate was that bad, but honestly, his hand radiated the worst fucking pain he's felt in a long while. Thankfully, his father came home too drunk or exhausted to notice or care, and Tyrell cleaned his room, getting rid of any evidence from the shattered plate, in record time. He nodded at Mr. Goddard and tried his best to listen or at least look like he was listening to whatever the older man was saying. His lips were moving, yes, but Tyrell couldn't hear a single thing. He confusedly looked at the English teacher's lips. Why wasn't sound coming out? 

"...and that's when I realized that my arm was gushing blood. Boy, was that a horrendous cut. My husband nearly threw up at the sight." He finally snapped back into reality, not understanding how he tuned out Mr. Goddard in the first place. Tyrell cleared his throat and smiled, nodding along and chuckling with the teacher. 

"Yeah, it took a while to bandage up." Tyrell said. Mr. Goddard squinted for a moment, briefly understanding that Tyrell was certainly not following along with the conversation. For some reason, he could tell. Tyrell bit his bottom and glanced behind him just to make sure Elliot wasn't lurking around some door. He was not surprised when he only saw an empty classroom, but part of him hoped that awkward, emo boy would be waiting for him somewhere. How stupid of him to think such a thing. Even Joanna wouldn't do that, and they dated for two years straight. He finally fixed his stare back onto his English teacher. 

"Son, what's bothering you so badly?" Mr. Goddard asked, sympathetic voice and pitying eyes. Tyrell tilted his head, wondering if he looked so very painfully obvious with his hopeful searching all school day. Surely it couldn't be that bad...

"Um, hm?" He mumbled, trying to brush off his question or play dumb so he could leave the school already. Tyrell adjusts his backpack straps, pretending to look as eager as he feels and seem like he's in a rush so Mr. Goddard will let him go. Mr. Goddard does not catch the hint, continuing his pestering stare and questioning eyebrows. Tyrell sighed. 

"I started talking to this person. They're really cool, and I think I like them a lot more than I should. I don't even know their last name and yet I can't get them out of my mind. What is that, Mr. G?" The Swede asks, sounding more and more exasperated and tired of these weird feelings he has for Elliot. Mr. Goddard parts his mouth to say a simple, "Ah," in return. He pushes his glasses further up his nose and faces Tyrell directly, sighing and crossing his arms over his chest. Tyrell waits for the intelligent and somewhat witty advice the English teacher will give him, knowing he won't think on it too long because he doesn't like his teachers like that. No matter who they are. 

"Does this person feel the same way?" He asks, continuing on this weird conversation instead of ending it and calling it a day. Tyrell squints his eyes, thinking hard on every situation with Elliot. It's certainly not a returned feeling. 

"Most likely not at all. He's awkward. They're! I meant they're." Tyrell blushed furiously and felt his cheeks sizzle with embarrassed heat as he hastily corrected himself. Although it doesn't matter because the teacher before him is a very, very, very gay man. He's literally married and happily so. Tyrell sighs at the relief in not having to worry about his "straight" reputation with at least one person. 

Elliot crosses his mind then, the large (but mostly half lidded) brown eyes, and pink, chapped lips, and the scrunch of his shoulders. Why does all of that send butterflies scattering into his stomach? And why did Joanna never make his heart skip a beat? Why was he still in this conversation with his English teacher? He shrugged at himself, mentally slapping his own cheek for not leaving the building minutes ago. He knows he had his chance. Mr. Goddard clears his throat and prepares to speak a most definitely long speech of advice now. Tyrell could tell. He always clears his throat the same way before starting his lessons, as if he were a messenger reading off a delivered letter. 

"Ah. I see. So why don't you try and befriend this... Person?" He asks. 

Tyrell shakes his head before saying, "It's nearly impossible to keep a conversation going with him. He's so secluded and I barely ever see him around." 

Tyrell shrugs off the fact that he probably just came out to his gay English teacher accidentally, continuing the deep conversation. He doesn't even know himself what gender he likes, all he cares about is finding a much needed solution to this strenuous problem. Mr. Goddard nods along, looking like he's been through the exact same situation, knows exactly what to say. 

"I don't know what to tell you, Tyrell." 

Of fucking course. Tyrell sighs and feels all hope and joy and happiness leave with it. He should've considered that Mr. Goddard probably wouldn't give a damn about helping him with his miniscule problem. It's just some lame crush that he'll most likely never get rid of (because for some reason whenever he crushes on people, they never leave his mind) and he'll be forced to try and forget. That's how they all end up. Well, except for Joanna, who is her own seperate classification of difficult and complicated. She hasn't talked to him since Sunday and that text was only a winking face. Joanna loved sending texts like those after Tyrell would punish her and bite into her flesh. God, he was deranged. 

"Honestly, just try your best to rope that horsey in. Who knows, maybe this kid likes you back and doesn't know how to show it!" He tries to lighten the mood. Mr. Goddard has never been one to make students smile, but Tyrell knows how hard he struggles to appeal to each and everyone in this fucking school. So, he smiles back. 

Mr. Goddard gives him a pat on the shoulder and swipes up his message bag, Tyrell swears it's a requirement to own one if you become an English teacher or something, and walks out of his classroom. Now he is in silence and swarming thoughts of Elliot scatter his brain. This whole cursed day has been like this, Tyrell forcing Elliot out of his head but eventually giving in to the warm thoughts of that damned loner. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming his alert nerves and turning to walk out into the hallway. 

He strolled down the tunnel of lockers and vacancy before waving kindly at a passing security officer, Mr. B, everyone called him. Tyrell truly wondered why literally none of the authority figures at this school never questioned why he always left so late. Maybe they knew he was actually talking to a teacher instead of saying that as an excuse to vandalize school property like most of the "cool kids" did. Most of them were too lame (or scared) to do anything major so nobody really questioned them either. This whole school was just so weird, and Tyrell needed a break. He set out in search of a quiet place to lay down and think of a decent solution to the situation. Tyrell Wellick would not let some emo, skinny boy control him like this. He hated feeling like a puppet on Elliot's strings. He wanted to hold his hand and call him soft, meaningless names, and then tilt his jaw to the side and mark up his sweet neck. 

Tyrell felt so conflicted. He had never been so... Well, practically obsessed with one person! Elliot was just an anti-social kid who gave him a cigarette the one time. Tyrell was certain that he was most likely blowing this whole crush way out of proportion, but honestly, he didn't care. He wanted it. He wanted him. Badly. Elliot probably wants absolutely nothing to do with Tyrell, but that wouldn't stop him from trying. Hell, he was so sure of himself that a wall made of the strongest metal couldn't get in his way. Well, obviously it could, but supposedly speaking, nothing would stop him. 

The tall Swede walked, half dazed and half buried in his rushing thoughts, admiring the breezy day surrounding him. The weather forecaster predicted thunderstorms later tonight, which Tyrell was elated for, and he took the time to admire the warm, sunny day before him. He felt himself smile and he felt calm. Grounded. He glanced around at each face he passed by on the sidewalk, wishing he could ooze his peacefulness into each scowling face. People really did take their city for granted. He looked down both direction of the empty, narrow roads before crossing and scurried across like an ant on a log. He was getting closer to his house now. Sometimes Tyrell would do this, he would stroll slowly down the scenic route to his home to try and let his tightly coiled mind unravel. He was always so tense, and this was always his go-to stress reliever. Tyrell breathed in the air and smiled wider, truly enjoying how easily this simple walk makes him feel so at peace. 

He notices how less and less people walk along the streets edge, the sun was sinking down the sky and left a trail of darker shades of red and purple and some blues. He noticed the colors were mostly blocked by raging clouds of a bruising gray. Thunderstorms gave Tyrell the best feeling, all the steady flicks of raindrops on his roof, the snare drum rolls of thunder, the blazing flashes of lightning. It was all so enthralling to him. He loved how sudden these roaring clouds could scatter amongst the sky and cause such chaos in nature. He didn't really know why, but ever since he was a little boy, he had always been so purely fascinated by the thrill of a loud thunderstorm. 

The street lamps all simultaneously flashed to life and he can clearly see the side of the road now. Tyrell stares directly down the sidewalk and sees a strange man walking toward him. Or maybe just in his opposite direction, but Tyrell swore the man was coming straight for him. The Swede gulped and looked down at the ground, watching his feet step on the small cracks in the sidewalk. He tried to distract himself and brush off his evening paranoia, but this man was getting closer now. He was around ten yards away, keeping an even pace and looking directly in front of him, face blank. Tyrell could see the face now, and he stopped walking, his heart beating insanely fast and his breathing forgetting how to act and damn was he cursed. 

Or blessed. It was Elliot. 

Tyrell felt a heat rise in his stomach and he tried to act normal, like if he saw Joanna or someone casual. He smoothes back his hair and prays he looks half decent. He takes a few shaky steps and waits for Elliot to recognize him, stop and say something nonchalant. He waits. And waits. They're close now, maybe ten feet away, Tyrell keeps nervously glancing up and can't close his mouth to breath from his nose. God, he probably looks so gay for him. He waits. Nothing so far. They were five feet away. Four. Three. Two. 

"Elliot?" He couldn't take it, he had to start the conversation. He knew somehow that Elliot wouldn't. It was highly unlikely considering the loner rarely talked. 

"Oh. Hey." Elliot avoids his eyes and Tyrell swears his pupils are vibrating, he looks insane. Tyrell furrows his brows and waits for him to look into his eyes. Elliot still won't look at him, he seems so on edge and ready to run, which makes this encounter that much more awkward. 

"Are you okay?" Tyrell asks. 

Elliot finally looks at him, his eyes wide and darting back and forth between Tyrell's. The taller boy feels his heart beat hard, pounding against his ribs almost painfully. Elliot is sweating and he continues to lick at his bottom lip every few seconds. They're chapped and make him look deranged. Tyrell steps closer, watching him take a hasty step back. Elliot gulps and looks down at the ground adjusting from foot to foot. 

"I'm fine." He was anything but, and that was just from the looks of him. Tyrell sighed, pinching his lips into a frustrated frown. He wanted to hold him gently and comfort him, coax him into telling him what was wrong. Tyrell didn't like seeing Elliot all twitchy and nervous, anxious. He bit on his bottom lip and watched Elliot scarcely scan their surroundings, probably thinking of all the ways he could get out of this conversation. Well, it wasn't even a conversation yet, it was just awkward as fuck. Tyrell couldn't help but feel the deflated sigh leave his body at the thought of it. The truth was, Tyrell would bet all the money in the world that Elliot couldn't care less about him. He knew it. Tyrell knew it. It was some fantasy crush that Tyrell would have to cram deep down until he lowered his bar for someone average. That's how it is. 

Tyrell forces his head back up, long enough to see the discomfort in Elliot's facial expression and the anxious gaze in his eye that hinted how badly he wanted to leave. The Swede understood that he wouldn't be liked by everyone, but he wanted this specific person to like him, and since that one person is probably just trying to be nice, Tyrell wishes he would actually get flustered whenever he saw him. Just like Tyrell did him. But that was obviously too much to ask for, and Tyrell needed to stop thinking this could ever be more than some idiotic act of rebelling against his parents. The whole gay thing and smoking cigarettes and acting like a clumsy schoolgirl... That shit would not ever fly by Tyrell's father. 

He offered Elliot a cramped smile and a small wave, his arm tight but he didn't want to just walk away. And with a heavy, the taller boy walked off, he's hanging low and feelings plummeting even lower. God, could he feel any fucking worse? Maybe he was just acting out because lately he's been scrambled for college and starting his life. 

Either way, Elliot is now out of the picture, and this could not have been more perfect because now Tyrell could focus on his studies and becoming the youngest CTO to some expendable company. Yay. He walked slowly, thinking of all the ways he could try and replace one thought of Elliot with some useless flashcard or something. That is, before he hears a fragile voice call out for him, breaking the silence of the evening air. By now, the storm clouds have rolled in and could burst with their chaotic force anytime. Tyrell froze, turning to look at Elliot. 

"Tyrell!" He shouted, catching the taller boy's attention. Elliot clears his throat, trying his best to look calm and casual and basically everything he is lacking right now. Tyrell turns and watches him, waiting for a response or an explanation or maybe even a simple wave. But Elliot couldn't say anything, he gulped back spit and balled his fists, gathering his thoughts into one collective build. He opened those wide, brown eyes, stepped confidently closer to the Swede, and leaned upwards, smashing his lips onto Tyrell's. Elliot's hands reached up for his jaw and he held the taller boy there, lip locked and both their bodies frozen in place. 

What the fuck, Tyrell thought, why am I liking this? He finally closed his eyes and swayed into the skinny boy's body, letting him take control of this spontaneous kiss. Tyrell certainly forgot about any fucking college or career bullshit. All that mattered now was the soft pressure of Elliot's lips on his own. Tyrell slides his palms into Elliot's sides and grips into the loner's hoodie, trying to savor this moment for as long as humanly possible. Until Elliot pulled back, leaning back into his actual height. The thought of Elliot standing on his tippy toes to kiss Tyrell made him blush. They both stared into each other's wondering eyes confused and intrigued and longing and breathless. And as if on que, a heavy roll of thunder swept up any ounce of silence in the dark, evening air. 

xx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's pretty G A Y Y Y Y


	5. Obvious sexual tension and confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the kiss, Tyrell feels electrified. Anything is possible and he finally knows how Elliot feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This shit's pretty gay :))

Okay, what the fuck, Tyrell thinks. Elliot is standing before him with eyes wide and lips parted. They both look shocked beyond belief that Elliot did that. He kissed Tyrell. Tyrell kissed a boy. Oh my god, he thinks, I kissed a boy. Tyrell had never done this before, crushed on a strange boy who would then proceed to actually smash his lips onto Tyrell's. He wasn't obliging, just newly intrigued by the sensation of Elliot's lips. He watched the shorter boy, making sure he wasn't about to flee the scene, and then felt a small smile crawl up to his cheeks. Although this was new and completely unknown to the Swede, he didn't mind thinking how wholesome that felt. How right. It was like an end to his strenuous problems, or at least a pause from them. Elliot kissing him truly made him better, like a shot of morphine to a junkie. 

What was going on? Tyrell didn't know whether or not he should say something to clear the silence, or just keep the blank space between them quiet so they could process whatever just happened. Does this mean that Elliot wants to be with him? Why did Elliot do it? Had he been crushing on Tyrell just as Tyrell had been him? There were so many eager questions battling for dominance in the Swede's head, racing around his mind. He cleared his throat, startling Elliot. 

"What was that?" It was a genuine question. Tyrell waited and watched patiently for a response from the shorter boy. 

Elliot locked his eyes onto Tyrell's, stuck in the entrancing hold that they always rope him in with. He gulped, looking back down at the ground and looking like his mind was scrambling. Tyrell furrowed his brows, hoping he hadn't upset him. What was going on? A sudden and sharp roll of thunder made the both of them jump, reminding them of the heavy storm rumbling above. Tyrell's head shot up, looking into the clouds with a scowl for interrupting their silence. He huffed and glanced back down to Elliot, seeing as the boy was already looking at him, a face of longing and some twisted pain lurked behind his eyes. The taller boy stepped closer, tilting his head some on instinct, a basic reflex now. He saw Elliot's eyes rim red and they were practically vibrating back and forth, frantic and on the verge of crying. 

Tyrell wanted to know what was wrong with him, but he didn't know how to say it. Obviously outright saying it was a no, so he would have to try and soothe his way into Elliot's heart. The temperature was dropping fast, a cool wind starting to flow past the two boys at a comfortable yet hasty speed. The storm was beginning to stir to life. 

"Elliot," he muttered. "Come to my house. I don't want for you to get caught in the storm." 

He hesitated, the long pause giving Tyrell a near heart attack. 

"Okay." 

And then the two of them were silently and quickly walking side by side on the walkway. Tyrell eyed down the sidewalk to see how much father his house was, also making sure he wasn't invading Elliot's personal bubble. The last thing Tyrell wanted was for Elliot to feel uncomfortable and leave. Tyrell was overjoyed that the loner even agreed to come over to his house, absolutely elated. And there was no reason for him to be. He barely knows Elliot, so for all he cares, Tyrell could get stabbed fifty times in the stomach as soon as they step foot in his house. But hey, if that meant that Elliot would be that close to him again, then Tyrell wouldn't mind getting viciously gutted. 

That's the worst scenario, tops, so what'll probably go down is a fuck ton of awkward glances and spaced apart seating, no matter where they go in the house. Tyrell walked silently, humoring all the possible scenarios and blushing at one that stayed stuck on his mind the whole walk home. He couldn't help himself when he thought of... Well, to be specific, knotting Elliot's wrists down into his bed and watching his body twist and squirm while he dragged a knife shallowly over the boy's torso. Tyrell's mouth parted slightly and he tried his best to contain himself, act casual, but God would that be a sight. A fantasy, more like. He looked over to Elliot just then, gazing at his face to see if he might want to bolt, but Elliot had a small smile on his face. Very unnoticeable, but very real. Elliot was smiling. Tyrell couldn't stop the the stupid grin on his face from surfacing either. They both walked, side by side, grinning like dumb idiots, over one kiss. 

Tyrell turned into his driveway and started walking up, checking behind him to see if Elliot was following. The loner had his head low, most likely staring at the ground to make sure he wouldn't trip, but he was still close. Tyrell looked back forward and reached his hand out to the door, twisting it open. They both stepped inside and Tyrell closed the door behind Elliot, shrugging off his jacket in the process. The shorter boy, stuffed his hands in his hoodie and glanced around, admiring the tidiness of the whole house. It was like a page out of some Esquire ad; so modern and sleek. He turned his vision back to Tyrell and nervously flashed the tall boy a smile. It was ironic how the two of them felt so nervous. Tyrell the most, with the worry that his house was too messy or unappealing, and the fact that he had the weird crush on Elliot, who was standing in said house, it gave him swirling dizziness. 

"Want something to drink?" Tyrell remembered to be a gracious host, since Elliot was his guest now. Elliot zoned back into reality, having been staring off into the blank space before Tyrell spoke up. He glanced at the kitchen and then back to Tyrell, nodding. He was really thirsty, actually. 

"Water is fine." He replied, following a few steps behind 

Tyrell into the kitchen area, watching the tall Swede fluidly walk around the cabinets and counters. It was so graceful, the way Tyrell walked, Elliot thought. He watched the lacrosse player waltzed around his kitchen as he reached for a cup and filled it with water from his fridge. Elliot looked around to see where to sit before deciding to lean on the doorframe, hands still plunged in his hoodie's pocket. Tyrell walked over to him, handing the glass of water over to the shorter boy. 

"Thanks." Elliot responded. Tyrell waved his hand like it was nothing, and walked past Elliot, heading for the stairs. He began to step up and jogged up them, waiting for Elliot to catch on and follow him up. Tyrell had to restrict the thoughts of strapping him down to his own bed and doing... Things, to him. This would just be them talking and listening to the thunderous storm roll in. Since Tyrell was on the second floor, he always heard the soft (sometimes heavy) drops of rain bounce onto his roof. It was a relaxing sound that always put him to sleep. The rain had always been like a breath of fresh air, a first sip of water after a marathon. It was cherished. Enjoyed. 

Finally, Elliot surfaced and slowly walked into Tyrell's bedroom, greeting him with a nervous look and some form of blushing cheeks. The Swede smiled, trying his best to seem welcoming and like this was casual, acting like not even ten minutes ago Elliot's lips were pressed onto his. 

"So," Tyrell began, gulping and looking around his room. "What was that?" 

He had to ask. It was eating at his very soul, not knowing why the fuck Elliot kissed him. He wanted to know if that was a mistake in the loner's eyes, or if he craved Tyrell like Tyrell craved him. In his head, Tyrell had mixed thoughts of either soft thoughts like more kisses, piles of hugs that lasted forever, calling him sweet names in Swedish... But then, the deranged, kinky fuck side of him desperately wanted to watch Elliot's face as he got off. It was fucking with him, the two polar opposite ideas battling for dominance in his mind. Meanwhile, Elliot sat down, completely unaware, on the edge of Tyrell's bed. He faced the lacrosse player, who was lounging on his desk chair, and took a sip of the water. Well, now this was awkward. Tyrell waited for thunder, but settled when he heard falling rain. 

"I think... I... I don't know." Elliot replied, his tone was short and clipped, nervous, too. He looked down into his glass of water and sat amongst the new silence. 

"Well, do you like me?" Tyrell questioned, wondering if the boy did it just because or whatever else reason proving that he didn't actually want the taller boy. As much as he didn't want that to be true, he knew it was certainly a big possibility. Chances are, Elliot did it for kicks. 

"I don't know that either." He said, slowly and honestly unsure of himself. 

He couldn't look at Tyrell. Elliot continued to stare, mindlessly, into his glass. Great, Tyrell thought, he doesn't even fucking know. The Swede sighed and sagged a bit lower in his chair, his thoughts worrying him and bringing out the worst in this situation. Overthinking was truly one of Tyrell's greatest achievements. (As was sarcasm.)

"Oh." It sounded like he had nearly whimpered it out, those two letters. Tyrell sounded and look so weak. He hated it, showing this lesser side of himself. It was never a side he wanted anyone to see, not even Joanna. His father made sure that Tyrell would be a strong minded individual who would destroy people to make his way to the top. But honestly, Tyrell wanted to be average. He didn't want to have all these pressures and pre-planned futures already in motion concerning his high school mind. Tyrell Wellick wanted to live his own life, and not give one single fuck. But that was far out of the question, now. He had to do what was expected of him, and right now that meant not to show his vulnerable side. 

"I like the rain." His plummeting thoughts were paused, having been interrupted by Elliot's small voice. 

He likes the rain, Tyrell thinks. Tyrell looks up at the loner who was looking out of the lacrosse player's window, a neat, little smile printed on his face. Tyrell felt a sharp tug pull at his heartstrings, certainly not helping the fact that Elliot probably doesn't like him back. Not the way he wants, that is. 

"Yeah, me too. It calms me down." Tyrell answered. He smiled, not meaning to and not wanting to, but as he gazed out the window, he felt that same smile that he had when he saw Elliot's smile tug at his lips. Elliot likes the rain, he thinks, but he doesn't like me. And just as suddenly as his face lit up, it fell back into a silent sorrow. He had confirmed it in his mind, his racing thoughts having backed up and settled on the reality that Elliot did not want to keep kissing Tyrell or spark a relationship. Maybe it wasn't his thing, or maybe Tyrell specifically wasn't his thing. Either way, this was awkward and Tyrell wanted to cry. 

"I think I do like you." God, Tyrell was damn near close to getting whiplash with all this back and forth bullshit. 

Was that so hard to say, Elliot? Tyrell felt his breath barely enter his body, and his heart beat insanely fast, and God, he couldn't see straight for a second. Why was this confession affecting Tyrell so intensely? What was so special about this? The two of them? Tyrell had so many questions for the universe, but right now he tried to hold back the biggest smile. He didn't want to scare Elliot. 

"I think I like you, too." It was simply said, but absolutely meant. Tyrell's fan girl side that obsessed over a small percent of people (mostly gay celebrities) would certainly convince Tyrell that this was love at first sight. Something meant to be. 'Written in the stars' type of bullshit. 

Now it was quiet, but not awkward. The two of them were both trying to contain smiles and Tyrell certainly felt like he could just explode heart eyes and affection. Tyrell tried his best to seem casual, even though he was positively radiating love and hearts, and smiled slyly in his chair. Elliot finally stared up at him, a new look on his face. This was something strange, almost hungry, but not ravenous. No, this look had desperation and tinges of some primal urge that needed to be taken care of. Tyrell's dark, twisted mind perked up, trying to decipher if this was a needy bottom look, or his mind playing tricks on him. Tyrell adjusted himself and sat up straighter. He watched the loner, like a hawk, scanning his face with narrowed eyes and parted lips. He wondered what was racing through Elliot's mind right now. 

The shorter boy stood up, walking over to Tyrell and standing in front of him. Tyrell felt a cocky smirk pull at the corners of his mouth as he confidently stood up, bending his head to look Elliot in the eyes. God, he loved towering over people and feeling like this. So, so cocky. 

Elliot shivered and brought his hands up anxiously, but carefully, and balled them into Tyrell's T shirt. He pulled his body up against Tyrell's, a furrowed brow decorating the Swede's perfect face. They were close, so, so close. Elliot gulped and finally brought his lips up to meet Tyrell's, gently yet firmly planting a kiss on the taller boy's lips. How was this kiss so soft, yet so urgent and needy? Tyrell wondered in his head, but brushed it off to focus on the feel of the other boy's lips. Soft and chapped and full and desperately pressing onto the lacrosse player's. 

When the shorter boy pulled away, they briefly glanced into each others eyes before Tyrell slid his hands onto Elliot's body, one palm on his side and the other sliding around the back of his neck, pulling him back in for another kiss. They both poured their built up emotions into this, oozing frustration and relief. They pulled away but kept going back for more, Tyrell now realizing what Elliot was hungry for. Maybe he was ravenous. The way his mouth fit against Tyrell's, the way his body felt pushed firmly on Tyrell, it was all so dizzying. Tyrell started walking to his bed, Elliot stumbling back at first but catching on and stepping backwards with him. The edge of the bed hit the back of Elliot's knees and he startled, immediately sitting down on the bed, missing the warmth Tyrell was radiating. 

The Swede rested his knee beside Elliot's thigh and leaned down, kissing him hard on the mouth. Elliot tasted like mint gum. It was intoxicating. 

Elliot's hands reached up to wrap around Tyrell's neck as the taller boy settled on top of him, Elliot's back on the bed and head in the clouds. They continued kissing before Tyrell bit Elliot's bottom lip, pulling at it before letting go. Then, the most beautiful thing poured into the room, the most unexpected yet encouraged sound: Elliot moaned. It was a soft rumble, much like the thunder outside Tyrell's window, but God, it did things to Tyrell that made Joanna look like nothing. Tyrell gaped while diving back in for a kiss. The last thing he wanted was for Elliot to try and be quiet, so naturally, his hand went up to curl around his neck. No pressure, just his firm hand settled neatly around his throat. Elliot pulled away from Tyrell and looked up at him, a small, teasing smile coiling his lips. Tyrell swore this was the end of him, seeing that look on Elliot made his jeans tight and his twisted mind smile. 

Tyrell joined their lips again, his tongue obviously asserting dominance and his hand starting to squeeze, just enough to make him feel dizzy. When he was with Joanna, he had found the perfect amount of pressure to put on to make her feel light-headed, but no more. She would go crazy for that. Just like Elliot is, his eyes screw shut and he lets out a stifled moan, choked out, breathy. And if Tyrell thought his jeans were tight a minute ago, boy was he wrong. It was getting achingly painful, but for some reason, Tyrell wanted to slow down. He didn't want to tie him down to the bed anymore. (For now at least.) Tyrell wanted to rest his head on Elliot's chest and fall asleep, holding the shorter boy like a lifeline. God, he wanted that more than anything. 

And then he heard a knock. It was sudden and loud and thankfully from the front door, not his bedroom door. Tyrell's head shot up, Elliot's following. The lacrosse player swallowed and crawled off his bed, leaving Elliot to sit on the edge, hot and bothered, as he opened the door and hesitantly trotted down the stairs. Tyrell had no idea who it could be. His dad wouldn't knock, and he had no friends who would want to venture out at this specific evening hour to see him. He cleared his throat and smoothed back his hair, hoping he didn't look like he was just making out with someone. Tyrell gripped the handle and opened the door, his eyes going wide and he froze like a deer in headlights. 

Of fucking course. It's Joanna. 

But what is she doing here? He thinks. She would never, not even during their relationship, come over to his house to fuck him. He'd always get paged to her house. Tyrell opened the door all the way and blinked, trying to look normal, casual. As if his ex isn't standing in front of him. 

"Hey." Joanna started. Her voice was strained, which meant she wasn't here for sex. She needed a shoulder to cry on. 

"Um, hey." Tyrell said. 

She looked around, glancing behind him and around his house, briefly looking back at the driveway. Joanna nervously bit her bottom lip and looked back at him. She sighed. 

"Is your father not home?" She asks, her eyes flitting back and forth between his own. 

"No. He's at work." Tyrell assumes, he doesn't actually know where his dad is. He never really does, but that's just their relationship. They were like roommates who contributed to keeping the house clean and alive, but never actually interacting unless school came up. 

"Oh. Well, um," she began, clearing her throat and looking down at the ground before her. Joanna had her arms draped across her stomach and she pinched her feet together. 

She sighed and stared back up at Tyrell, holding his gaze before a thin tear stream decorated her cheek. Tyrell stepped closer, confused as to what she was near saying. Clearly it was horrible if she had shed a tear for it. Joanna never cries. Tyrell has only seen her cry once in the whole time he's known her, and that was when she was first back from Sweden and her emotions were soaring. Other than that, she has been stone cold and kinky. 

"I'm pregnant." She states, saying it almost like a question. Tyrell feels his whole body tighten and his heart drops. He can't think straight. What?! She can't be. He used protection every single time, and she is on the pill. Tyrell made sure they were always safe, hell, more than safe! He was a neat freak about everything, there was no way he would let this happen. There was no way it could be his, at least. And as if on que, or maybe she's reading his mind, she speaks up, catching on to his facial expressions. 

"It's not yours!" Joanna she finishes, panicked and reassuring. Tyrell feels all the color reenter his body, so much relief flooding him he could've sworn he almost collapsed. 

"Vad i helvete, Joanna!" He replies, thankful it isn't his to worry about, but frustrated because now he has her to worry about. 

Just when Tyrell finally gets off the hook, free from her using him, she shows up and he obviously can't let her handle this pregnancy on her own. She has nobody else. Fuck. Tyrell is kicking and screaming and punching and shrugging in his mind, but he just combs his hands through his hair and sighs, looking back at her fully crying now. He purses his lips together and pulls her against his chest, offering her a hug and takes some weight off her shoulders. Joanna cries into his shirt. Tyrell doesn't know how to help her. She would never get an abortion and she wouldn't ruin her teenage years raising a child. She could out it up for adoption, but Joanna hates being babied by doctors, and when you give your baby up for adoption, doctors are there every step of the way. 

"Det kommer att vara okej, Joanna." He soothes, hoping to relieve her some. 

"Allt kommer att vara okej." 

xx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations 
> 
> Vad i helvete - What the hell  
> Det kommer att vara okej - It'll be okay  
> Allt kommer att vara okej - It'll all be okay


	6. Blushing cheeks and fist fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrell comes to school the next day feeling surprisingly great... Until gym class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so Elliot is kind of a top.

Today is a good day, Tyrell thinks and smiles at the thought. He happily steps into his high school, glancing around at each gazing face. One girl is just staring at him. Her mouth is parted and she looks like she's having a wet dream, her fingers gripping tightly around her binders stuffed in her arms. Tyrell flashes her a wide smile, winking and continuing his walk to his locker. The girl probably just had a seizure from the wink, and having that kind of influence over people, complete strangers, it gave Tyrell a tingle. He liked feeling like everyone would up and bow down to him right him if he asked. Maybe it was because that's the way he was was raised, or maybe he's grown into this sadistic skin, but either way, it gave him an edge. Tyrell Wellick was on top of the world, and everyone knew it. 

Suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks, his heart thumping and his mind scrambling like runny eggs. Elliot was walking towards him, head glancing back and forth around him. Tyrell sighed and felt his whole body relax. He knows that allowing himself to get this comfortable around someone would have it's consequences, but the way Elliot made him feel was worth it. The shorter boy gave him butterflies. 

Tyrell stepped slowly in his general direction and waited for Elliot to come to him. Students flooded the hallways and laughed in and out of classrooms. Tyrell managed to drown out the sound, only watching Elliot walk towards him and focus on controlling his heartbeat. This, all of this, was certainly new to Tyrell. Joanna had never made the lacrosse player feel such strong emotions, unless he had her strapped below him. She was only there for a momentary release from the draining black hole named being alone. Tyrell always found a way to get sucked into that and he knew she was there to help him forget about it for just a few hours. So hey, it was better than wallowing in pity and shame and regret. Elliot stopped in front of him and exhaled. 

"Hey." He started. Tyrell had to contain the moan at the back of his throat when he heard Elliot's voice. He felt so dumb, like a clutzy schoolgirl crushing on someone way out of her league. 

"Bonsoir, Elliot." Tyrell replied, mentally cursing himself for remembering bonsoir is meant for the evening. He hopes Elliot doesn't take French. The last thing he needs is for his... Boyfriend? Make out partner? Crush? Benefitted friend? Whatever Elliot was. He didn't need him thinking Tyrell was stupid. Tyrell smiled down at the emo boy, admiring his lightly shaded eyes and quirked up smile. This was soft and simple and pleasing to Tyrell, seeing Elliot calm and collected. He thinks. 

"Have you seen Joanna at all?" Elliot said her name with a sharpness. Tyrell knew he didn't like her, and having to explain to him why she came to his house so late at night last night was strenuous. Elliot thought the Swede was just trying to get rid of him so he could fuck Joanna, but then she came in crying and Elliot understood he should leave. Tyrell had to help Joanna stop sobbing for about an hour before his dad came back home from work. She left and Tyrell was alone again. Oddly enough, his dad didn't question her presence or the bandage on Tyrell's palm. He still never asked what had happened or shown any interest to even start that conversation. The last thing Tyrell's father had said to him was... He couldn't recall. Wow. Tyrell felt himself sigh and half of his good mood deflate with it. Elliot noticed. 

"Um no. Not after last night. She left practically right after you did." Tyrell answered. 

Elliot nodded, looking around the hallways. Girls were gathered in small clumps around the lockers and gaped at he and Tyrell. Some were whispering and one was furiously texting on her phone. Tyrell didn't seem to notice and his head hung low. Elliot shuffled closer to the tall Swede, his fingers crawling out of his pockets and onto Tyrell's stomach. 

Elliot used his flat palm to slide his hand up the lacrosse player's chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken. Tyrell's eyes searched Elliot's, wondering what he was doing. The shorter boy stood tall, leaning against him and getting close to his ear. Tyrell felt his breath hitch and his head nearly explode. What was Elliot doing? Why was he getting so close? Especially in public. Tyrell expected him to be somewhat quiet and awkward if they dated. Does this mean they're dating? The Swede seriously couldn't breath around Elliot, but only because the boy made him so damn confused. What was going on? Hell if Tyrell knew. 

"They're watching us." Elliot whispered, lingering by his ear and smiling softly to himself. Tyrell felt his jeans get just a little tighter. 

It was then that Tyrell spotted a small crowd of students gathered around the two of them, all surprised and staring unhappily. Tyrell now understood, Elliot was trying to show off or something. He was putting on a show. His roaming hands, whispering, it was Elliot trying to make the crowd know who he was to Tyrell. Which was a title Tyrell wasn't even sure of. By now, they had to be more than friends. Elliot had to think they were more than that, right? Tyrell's thoughts blurred into one confused question: what did Elliot think of Tyrell exactly? 

"Last night was fun. We should do it again sometime." The shorter, blue eyed boy moaned in his ear. Tyrell closed his eyes and tried to collect himself, thinking of anything but how attractive his boyfriend was right now. And when he opened his eyes, Elliot was walking off in the opposite direction. Tyrell frowned and huffed out a frustrated sigh. God, he wanted to do some very bad things to Elliot, show him the consequences of turning him on in public only to leave him hot and bothered. But then again, this was fun. Tyrell straightened his posture and resumed his trek to his locker, turning and twisting in his combination. This means Elliot feels the same way I do, Tyrell thinks. He lingers at the thought, Elliot's lips dancing in his mind. 

Ah, Tyrell Wellick was in love. 

The rest of the morning went by quickly, each class flying by with Tyrell barely paying attention. All he could try to think of was something related to Elliot. The Swede knew he was most likely missing out on some important school stuff, but nothing he couldn't catch up on surely. He was passing each class with flying colors so opting out of todays lessons would barely scratch his perfect grades. Elliot was entirely worth it anyways. He always managed to calm Tyrell down, just thinking of him. It put him at ease, and that was certainly something Tyrell needed considering he worked tirelessly to maintain this perfect life. He needed the chilled atmosphere Elliot resonated. Tyrell was falling down a rabbit hole of self hatred and overthinking, but Elliot was starting to slow down his fall. Just talking to him made Tyrell feel special and relieved from life's choking hold. It was a comfort to see Elliot, and Tyrell prayed to a false God that this comfort would never go away. 

He left his trigonometry class feeling better than he ever has leaving a math class. Today was such a good fucking day. He felt his smile shine as he proudly walked into the gym. Most boys were laughing and clapping each other on the back, all acting like stereotypical dickheads as Tyrell stepped into the locker room. He couldn't understand how half of these guys pulled the girls at this school, but he didn't really care. The boys were all the same in which they used a girl for their pleasure until they got bored of them. It was sad, yes, but also something Tyrell didn't feel a strong remorse for. High school was fucked up enough. Tyrell couldn't go around saving everyone. 

He stripped off his jacket and swiped on his lacrosse practice shirt. It smelled of sweat and men's cologne. Tyrell tried not to breath in while he changed into his gym clothes, hoping none of the guys would come fuck with him about the scene Elliot caused today in the halls. Tyrell really didn't want to beat somebody up. He combed back his hair and walked out of the locker room. This high school had four PE teachers, three male and one female. Mrs. Moss was a sweet coach, always lending a helping hand and making the kids feel comfortable in her gym. The rest of the coaches were perverts. One was actually quite touchy with Tyrell. Mr. Colby. He was such a creep, always chewing his gum and watching Tyrell. He requested the star lacrosse player call him Terry, but hell no to that. Tyrell tried to keep his distance, but Coach Colby would find ways to touch him, maybe fixing his form or just feeling his muscles. It was gross. Especially for Tyrell since he was the only one getting targeted with the sexual harassment, and nobody really cares when it's a boy getting harassed. 

He walked across the gym floor and heard someone call out his name, too high to be a teachers voice. Tyrell stopped and looked off in the general direction, freezing when he sees a gang of the other popular boys stalking towards him. They weren't intimidating, Tyrell just really didn't want to break open the cuts on his palm for fighting them. That would suck. They were just starting to heal, too. 

"Aye, Wellick!" One of them called. His name was Ernesto Santiago, a grade A jackass. He was the pack leader of a small possy, comprised of wannabes and fakers. Tyrell exhaled a sigh and crossed his arms, standing casual and somewhat bored. He knew what was about to happen. He and Santiago were known to get into bad fights, Tyrell always winning each and every one. 

"So, the funniest thing happened this morning. Get this," Santiago starts, he is a foot away from Tyrell now. The group of boys around him all watch him and wait. "Some girl showed me a picture, right? But it was you and some... Some fucking lowlife kid. A boy." 

The crowd of boys all laughed and smiled at Santiago, watching him illustrate a story with his hands. They all laughed and looked at Tyrell like he was about to lose his first fight. Tyrell blinked, waiting for an actual joke or something else besides that weak introduction to their fight. Now he had to get Santiago to provoke him or else he'd get in more trouble. The last thing he needed was for his dad to find out he's gotten into another fight with this waste of space, Santiago. The last time Tyrell came home with bruised knuckles and a busted lip, but his father only narrowed his eyes at him, brushing it off and continuing his day. Tyrell had never actually started any of their fights, using the same "it was self defense" excuse when authorities interrogated the two boys. 

"Wow, that's hilarious." Tyrell deadpanned. Santiago stepped closer, scoffing and crossing his arms to try and match Tyrell, make it look like he was the one in control. 

"I don't know what you're doing, but last time I checked you had a girlfriend. So, that begs the question... Is our sweet Tyrell a fag?" Santiago retorted. He sounded so disbelieving and light. Tyrell bit into his lip and felt his fists ball up. This motherfucker always has the audacity to provoke the Swede, always start fights he can't finish. Tyrell felt like a bull being shown a mighty red flag. 

"You better shut the fuck up, Santiago." Tyrell warned, trying to sound like he wasn't yearning to kick the dark haired boy's ass. 

"Awe, I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings?" Santiago faked emotion and started laughing, making small harrumphs to mock a crying Tyrell. This only made the lacrosse player rage even harder. Fuck it, he thought. 

Tyrell launched his body onto Santiago's and slammed him down on the ground, straddling him and pounding his balled fist onto the boys face. The small possy enclosed a circle around the two, all saying their "ooo's" and "aaa's". Tyrell focused on beating the shit out of this jackass. He felt the boy trying to scratch at Tyrell's throat but he couldn't stop Tyrell from repeatedly socking him in the jaw. This felt good. Too good. Tyrell needed to stop. Blood was spurting from Santiago's nose and mouth, which usually signalled when Tyrell should stop. But he couldn't. The thought of Santiago calling him a fag and talking about Elliot made Tyrell feel such anger and hatred and ravenous hunger for seeing this boy crumble beneath his hands. And boy, was he. Santiago had eyes full of fear and Tyrell could see how overboard he had gone. 

He stopped punching, feeling his chest rake with heavy panting and his hair falling out of place. Santiago screwed his eyes shut and reached to cover his nose, drenched in blood, trying to stop the bleeding. Tyrell gulped and quickly stood up, his heart hammering in his chest and regret flooding his mind. He should've been the bigger person and walked away. He hated that beating into Santiago gave him a rush of relief and was used as an outlet for his pent up anger. 

He hated how much he liked it. 

Just then, Coach Colby broke into the circle of boys and gaped at the scene before him, his eyes fixating on a shocked Tyrell. He sighed and pinched his lips together, pointing furiously at the gym door. Tyrell licked his lips and walked off, holding his palms open to see the blood streaming down his once healed cuts. This was wrong. He turned his hands over and felt his eyebrows crease when he sees the deep red knuckles that decorate his hands. It was then that the sudden stinging and throb kicked in. Tyrell tried to steady his breathing and nervously glanced around at the few groups of students backing away from him so he could leave the gym. Just like this morning, kids were gathered around him, watching and shocked and texting their friends all about this. He dropped his head again and focused on walking to the office. 

This was for Elliot, he thought. He repeated that over and over and over in his head until it sank in. Tyrell needed to tell himself that so he wouldn't panic over what he had just done. He needed to justify his actions so he wouldn't feel the full shame piling on his shoulders. He couldn't let himself think of the pure anger that made him sink his fists into Santiago's face. He couldn't let himself think of how good it felt. 

He turned down a hallway and was confronted with Joanna. Of all people. He sighed and rolled his head, cursing himself for getting into this situation in the first place. She smiled at first, but gasped when she gazed down at his bloodied and bruised hands. 

"Tyrell! What happened?" She sounded so worried that for a second, just a second, he thought she actually cared. 

"It's nothing." He tried to tuck his hands off behind his back but she grabbed his wrists, gaping at the sight before her. He looked monstrous. Joanna swallowed and breathed in, looking up at him. She narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head, looking back down at his hands, turning them over. 

"What did he say this time?" 

"Joanna. It's fine." Tyrell replied, sounding annoyed. She continued to pester him. 

"Tyrell, tell me what Santiago said. I know you wouldn't start a fight like this." Joanna soothed. He sighed and looked off, shaking his head and chewing on the inside of his cheek. He hated himself and this wasn't helping. His whole life, he was trained to prove to the world how intelligent and strong and heroic he was, but all he felt was stupidity. Tyrell was dumb for beating Santiago up for the thousandth time and he knew what would happen because of it. Joanna waited for a response, expectantly looking up at him. Tyrell wanted to cry. 

"He called me a... A fag. And he kept talking shit about Elliot and I, so I just... Snapped." Tyrell stated. It was the truth. Joanna sighed, crossing her arms. 

"You can't let him get to you so easily. Who are you to let some small, little boy question your authority? Certainly not the Tyrell Wellick I know. He would never let something so small affect him this much." She sounded hateful. Like a snake. Joanna had stepped back and shook her head, almost as if she were a disappointed mother. Tyrell felt his mouth part and his eyes tinge with tears. She was right. Tyrell was stupid for letting this happen. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He watched her shrug and come closer to him, hugging him and patting his back. He felt his whole mood crumble and he leaned on her. This wasn't as comforting as Tyrell needed right now, but she hated hugs more than Conservative's hated gays. 

He collected himself and stood up straight, stepping back and nodding down at her. Joanna pushed up a smile and squeezed his arm before walking off. Whatever relationship they had was comprised of mutual respect and some form of love. But now that she was pregnant with some other guy's baby, all he felt towards her was the burden to help her due to her given situation. Same for her. She knew he needed support so she gave it. But nothing more. It was enough for Tyrell to take a deep breath and walk into the office with a bored look on his face. The blood was dried up on his knuckles now and his hands hurt just a little less. It was nothing like the horrible stinging from the first time he cut his palms. 

After about an hour of waiting and then convincing the principal it was self defense, Tyrell walked out of the office with a makeshift icepack to his knuckles. He sighed and walked down the hallway, going to his locker and swiping his backpack. Tyrell had to leave. He slammed his locker shut and purely exhausted from today's roller coaster of events, walked down the main hall towards the doors. At least it was still a lovely day outside, birds flying about and the sun only shaded by few straggling clouds. It was warm. Peaceful. Tyrell closed his eyes and breathed in the midday's air. With a few steps, he was at the same spot Elliot had first shared that cigarette with him on the curb. Tyrell smiled as he gazed down at the spot. What a weird but treasured memory. 

Just then he heard his name being called again, this time from a female's voice. He furrowed his brows and looked in the direction of the sound. A brunette was walking towards him with Elliot beside her. He felt his face relax into a soft smile. The two strutted closer to him until they were both about a foot away. Elliot looked worriedly down at Tyrell's hand. Some blood was still sticky on his skin, but overall it was better. 

"Hey, are you good?" Elliot asked, sounding concerned but still casual. 

"Yeah, just a cut." Tyrell replied. The girl snorted and pulled her heart shaped glasses down her nose, adjusting her stance. Tyrell recognized her, the same girl who he saw Elliot smiling at maybe a week ago. He gulped and stood up straighter, trying to not look so weak. Elliot looked back up at him, then her, then him again. He cleared his throat. 

"Right. Tyrell, this is my sister, Darlene." He introduced. Tyrell felt his whole body relax when he realized she was no threat to him. Only a sister. 

"Oh. Hello." Tyrell offered a smile and watched her roll her eyes, continuing to glance all around her. She looked like she was waiting for someone to show up. And as if on que, her face lit up before shouting out someone's name. 

"Dom!" Darlene called, running off behind Tyrell and leaving him with a worried Elliot. The shorter boy gently held up his hand, examining all the cuts and blood and bruises. Tyrell shrugged and let him gawk at them. Now he'd have to explain the fight to him. Tyrell glanced behind him to see Darlene smashing her lips onto some other girl's, he assumed Dom's. Whoever Dom was. Where are all these people coming from and why don't I know them, he thought. 

"I didn't think it was this bad. Are you okay?" Elliot asked. He seemed the same amount of worried as he was calm which was really confusing to Tyrell. 

"It's really not that bad. Santiago started a fight and I finished it." Tyrell briefly explained, trying not to dive into the atrocity's of the beat down. He sighed and watched Elliot, his wondering eyes. Tyrell sighed and felt his body sag with affection. He could stare at Elliot for hours upon hours. 

"Wait, are you leaving school early, too?" Tyrell asked. 

"Uh yeah, actually. Darlene wanted to get some food with Dom and I was tagging along." Elliot started, nodding his head and stuffing his hands inside his pockets. "You should come along." 

God, Tyrell would love that. He stopped himself from crying at the sweet invitation and grinned, a cheery and thoughtful grin, nodding his head. 

"I'd like that, Elliot."

xx


	7. Double dates and city lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrell joins Elliot, Darlene, and Dom for lunch, both Darlene and Dominique interrogating Tyrell. Afterwards, Elliot takes Tyrell on a stroll around New York at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically just protective Domlene and Elliot being clingy but ENJOY !!

"So, Tyrell. Did you grow up here?" Dominique inquired, shoving a fry in her mouth. Her and Darlene sat across from Tyrell and Elliot. The red head had her elbows on the table and tilted her head, looking at the Swede with interest and scepticism. Her face was a big question mark. Tyrell cleared his throat and sat up straighter, trying to seem like he wasn't some lame ass with no self esteem. He side glanced over to Elliot briefly before piecing together a sentence, and then scratching the sentence because this wasn't an interview. Nobody cared. 

"Uh no. I was born in Sweden." He replied. Dominique's eyebrows shot up and she nodded, pouting her lips. She looked like she was testing that credibility. 

"Can you speak Swedish, then?" She asked, a small smile lifting her lips. Darlene wasn't in this conversation, her eyes only gazed silently onto the red haired girl beside her. She was fixated on the sight. Tyrell understood that. 

"Ja, flytande faktiskt." Tyrell stated. Elliot huffed a smile and watched the lacrosse player intently. From a stranger's perspective, their booth had two hopeless kids gawking at their partners with two other kids conversing. And that's exactly what was going on, really. Tyrell grinned and could feel the awkward interrogating tension between him and Dom. She was suspicious of him for some reason, and she felt like she needed to prove her intelligence by questioning him. Tyrell didn't mind, as long as she wouldn't bring up his father in any way, this lunch would go perfectly fine. It has so far, he thought. Darlene shuffled closer to Dom and then her light blue eyes flicked up to Tyrell, narrowing at him as she leaned her head on the other girl's shoulder. 

For a few minutes of staring and Tyrell sitting awkwardly pressed into the wall so Elliot would have space in the booth, it was quiet except for the rest of the diner. Tyrell stole few glances every few seconds, seeing if Elliot was okay, and also just to look at his face. Dom and Darlene were acting like a newly wedded couple, feeding each other fries and giggling. They were flaunting their relationship and making Tyrell feel like such a sore thumb. He was the closest thing to an outcast in this group, and all he wanted right now was some alone time with his boyfriend. (They still never clarified what they were, but Tyrell thought it'd be better if he just jumped the gun and called him his boyfriend.) He wanted to forget all about what he did today. Beating Santiago's face to a pulp. 

He sighed, mentally rehearsing the same speech he always gives himself, saying how much of a nobody he really was. Tyrell couldn't stop thinking of how bad he fucked up today and it was starting to stain his mind, tarnishing his so called good mood. He was cursing himself over and over thinking of how stupid he was. The tall Swede let out a shaky breath before reaching out to take a sip of his water, gulping some down. He set it back down and found Darlene watching him. 

"What happened today? Your hands, I mean." She broke the silence, her tone sounding disgusted but interested. Dom looked away from the brunette to stare inquisitively at Tyrell, also wondering why there was stained blood on his knuckles. 

"Um... I got into a little fight. It's fine, though." Tyrell suggested. 

Elliot furrowed his brows, waiting for a more specific explanation as to what provoked the lacrosse player into bruising his hands. Dom and Darlene had the same skeptical face, the three of them all listening for Tyrell to dive in deeper. Surely he wouldn't just beat up on someone for kicks. The tall boy gulped, feeling his throat swell up and his heart pound just a little faster. His eyes scattered across the blank table. 

"Santiago said some shit and I got mad. But it's really nothing. Just a scuffle." Tyrell offered, hoping that would set them at ease. He really did not want to dig into this specific subject. 

"What did he say?" Dominique asked. Tyrell wanted to scream and cry and curl up into a ball. This lunch was supposed to be a calm end to today's horrendous turn of events. That's all Tyrell needed, was to meet Elliot's sister and the three of them all eat and be merry over some sandwiches. But instead, he had to relive his outburst and explain why he did it to people he just met and his boyfriend. Today really was taking a sharp turn for the worst. His hand was still throbbing, not as bad as before thankfully, but still radiating a cringing ache. He wished there was a plate of food in front of him, but their waitress was taking her sweet time. Tyrell steadied his thoughts and opened his mouth to speak. 

"He called me a fag." Tyrell said, slowly and deliberate. Everyone's breath hitched. He couldn't look up at anyone. He was still ashamed of what he had done. 

"Jesus. I'm assuming you won, then?" Dom asked, her voice stern and resembling Joanna's. Tyrell hated this. If Elliot wasn't sitting beside him, he would be crying and mentally tearing into himself, producing a week's worth of self hatred. That's what he always did. It was a horrible cycle but one that never failed to present itself. 

"Yeah." He choked out. Clearing his throat, Tyrell shoved his walls up and disconnected from feeling the heavy emotions threatening to pool over. He didn't need them now. Elliot was worriedly looking over at him. He knew that he probably looked suicidal, and honestly he might be, so Tyrell put on a smile. Before anyone could say anything, the waitress came by with heaping plates of all kinds of food. She slid a burger over to Dom, a bowl of pasta to Darlene, a slice of pizza to Elliot, and finally a bowl of salad for the Swede. He thanked the short woman and lifted his fork, happily jabbing at his healthy plate of food and shoving said fork into his mouth. The lettuce crunched and he savored the taste of the ranch and carrot. 

"I can't believe you're the type of person to enjoy eating fucking leaves," Darlene started. "And to be dating, of all people, my brother. The fattest skinny person I know. What a pair." 

Tyrell paused, thinking of what she was saying, and then continued eating. He tried not to overthink and get giddy over the fact that Elliot had told his sister about him. Let alone, told her so much that she thought them to be dating. By now, they were. Tyrell smiled as he chewed his leaves, as Darlene called them, feeling his mind's towering defenses fall. He was feeling a little better, thinking of Elliot talking on and on about him to Darlene made his cheeks flush. 

"Hey, I wanna show you something later." Elliot mumbled to Tyrell. It was quiet enough for only Tyrell to hear and his voice was soft, still low and rumbly, but soothing. The lacrosse player turned his head to look at him, his eyes wide and blue. He grinned a shy smile and nodded. 

The four crazy kids all finished eating their food and sat in silence, Darlene's head resting on Dom's shoulder and Elliot sitting with his hands in his lap. Tyrell was gazing out the window, the red glow of neon lights framing the window making the city lights pop that much more. It had been about an hour to an hour and a half now, the evening sky was starting to darken and the city lights shone brighter. It was a beautiful night out, the hustle of pedestrians all around and the bright glow from signs lining the sidewalks and the crazy banter of a homeless man. It was all so beautiful. Tyrell was hypnotized, for years he was obsessed with the chaotic beauty of New York, and that would never change. He loved it's complicities and seemingly never ending facade. 

"So, last question of the day," Darlene began, leaning forward on her elbows and taking a long look at Tyrell as he focused his attention from out the window to back inside their booth. She pinched her lips, flicking her eyes over to Elliot before continuing. "Are you crazy, Tyrell?" 

He stared at her. Was he crazy? Tyrell couldn't tell by now. Does the enjoyment of beating someone to a pulp classify him as crazy? No... Well, maybe. Tyrell did have consuming anger issues and was less than fortunate with dealing with any type of emotion. He was pretty complicated, yes, but Tyrell couldn't be crazy. Possibly just borderline insane sometimes, sweetheart other times. It was truly a roll of the dice with him, but he was raised into this horrific mindset, and it's fucked him over multiple times. Was he crazy? He couldn't answer that, but for Darlene it was simple. 

"No. Just trapped in disillusionment." Tyrell replied honestly. Maybe he was crazy, having thrown more punches than Muhammed Ali and actually felt relieved while doing so. He always characterized that as blowing off steam, but maybe he was just a fucked up psychopath. 

Darlene nodded, smiling and tapping the table as if signaling she and Dom were leaving. And she stood up, adjusting the hem of her shirt and waiting for the red head to scoot out and stand beside her. The brunette laid a hand on Elliot's shoulder and he flinched, but only for a second. The two girls had forced smiles and said their goodbyes to the shorter boy, throwing brief glances over at Tyrell every now and again. 

"Later, losers. Don't stay up too late." Darlene called out as she and Dom walked out of the diner. 

Elliot huffed a smile and sat silently looking off in their direction until the bell ring out their leave. He sighed and looked down at the table, then Tyrell, a blank face presented to the lacrosse player. 

"So, what did you want to show me, Elliot?" Tyrell questioned, his brows furrowed and head tilted. He watched Elliot and waited. The two of them sat in an awkward silence until the shorter boy shrugged and flashed Tyrell an overly excited smile. It was strange, to see such a blank face slip into such excitement. Tyrell felt his cheeks crease and he chuckled, turning his body to face Elliot. Now they definitely looked like two fools in love. Elliot was grinning like an idiot and Tyrell had the biggest heart eyes for it. The waitress came by and swept up the plates, also taking the money Dom left for her. Elliot waited until she left and then leaned in close to Tyrell, looking into his eyes and controlling his smile so he could talk. 

"Follow me." He blurted. And suddenly, Elliot shot up and started walking fast towards the door, not waiting for Tyrell. The Swede looked up panicked but raced after him, quickly yelling a compliment towards their waitress before pushing open the door and listening to the bell ring out. His head flew to both sides of him, looking for his confusing yet enticing boyfriend. Elliot was walking down the sidewalk at a mediate New Yorker speed. So, fast. 

Tyrell combed back his hair and began to jog after him. The evening breeze was a sweet sensation and fueled Tyrell's longing. He finally caught up to Elliot and walked beside him, short huffs of breath being the only sound between them. Taxi's blared and people hollered. It was a normal night in the city that never sleeps, and Tyrell was getting a good peak into that. Elliot had a casual resting face and walked silently, not giving Tyrell any hints where they were going, but he didn't care. Doing something that lead Tyrell into the unknown gave him a rush, a sense of felling free. Just being in Elliot's presence made his heart flutter, but following him blindly into the depths of New York's many curiosities was exhilarating. Even if it Elliot was just taking him to some downtown ice cream shop, Tyrell loved being active and being a part of something. It meant he mattered. 

And all Tyrell wanted was to matter to someone. 

The two boys continued down the sidewalk for maybe a mile or two before Elliot turned and Tyrell clumsily followed. The city was getting darker, metaphorically and actually. They were in a sketchy part of town and hookers were licking their Botox plumped lips at him. One woman even slapped his ass. He then laced his fingers through Elliot's and walked closer next to him, trying to show the women (and men) he wasn't interested. Elliot flinched at first, but eventually he held Tyrell's hand. It was sweet. 

"Are we close?" Tyrell asked, not enjoying the crude soliciting and objectifying. He hated this part of town for this reason in particular. The hookers were so clingy and their voices were beyond annoying. 

"We're closer than we were five minutes ago." Elliot responded. Great, Tyrell thought, now he's being sarcastic. 

They turned down another street and in the distance Tyrell could spot a large Ferris wheel and a winding roller coaster. He recognized Coney Island and got a sense that that was exactly where they were going. Tyrell had only been once. With Joanna. She hated it, actually, claiming how the people were all morons and idiotic for wanting to eat street meat and ride barely functional rides by a beach. Tyrell loved it, though. The blaring colors and crowds of happy citizens and especially the shaky rides. It was fun. Plus, no one had ever taken him before so he certainly enjoyed the cheery atmosphere. Tyrell smiled at the thought, thinking of what he and Elliot would do. Maybe they'd play games and win some cute stuffed animals. Or maybe they'd eat popcorn and talk while walking by the water. 

"You know, I really like being around you." Tyrell said. 

Elliot was silent for a second, taking a break from walking and standing in front of the Swede. He looked up at him and his face resembled that of a scientist examining a new species. Curious, intrigued, in awe. The shorter boy stepped closer to Tyrell and carefully let go of his hand, slowly and unsurely slipping around the lacrosse player's waist. Elliot reluctantly brought himself against Tyrell and hugged him, pressing his cheek into the tall boy's chest, holding onto his body like he was a life raft. 

"Don't leave. Please." Elliot sounded normal but his words were sharp. Tyrell frowned and worried he had given off that vibe, the I'll-use-you-then-go type of vibe. He shook his head and lightly squeezed Elliot. They stayed like that until the shorter boy pulled away, his face sheepish and awkward. He smiled nervously and continued walking towards the ferris wheel. Tyrell sighed and strode up next to him again. This time, he placed his hand across the boys shoulders and they walked, content, towards the beach.

The sky was beginning to shade a lavish sunset, full of rich color and mesmerizing cloud patterns. It was a beautiful day. Elliot had lead the two of them onto the boardwalk and to Tyrell's dismay, Coney Island was practically empty. He frowned and followed Elliot's lead. They walked steadily down until Elliot turned and strolled towards more plain buildings. Tyrell watched as the shorter boy opened a white door on a building labeled ''F SOCIETY". As confused as he was, he stuck by Elliot. The door opened to a narrow alley with wires running along the wall in one thick stream. Tyrell followed swiftly and watched as Elliot grabbed a pair of keys and jiggled them into another door's lock. Pushing it open, Elliot looked back at Tyrell before stepping inside. The Swede joined him and closed the door behind him, suddenly taken aback by the vibrant glow of neon signs, one saying "games, games, games". This was an abandoned arcade, but one kept in great condition. 

The room had a small popcorn machine, lots of boxy arcade games and ski ball. It was a fiercely exciting space. Elliot set his keys down on a table with two computers set up. Tyrell stepped further inside and admired the room. Elliot glanced around but settled his gaze on Tyrell, enjoying the feeling of introducing him to something new. 

"What is this place?" Tyrell asked, finally drawing his gaze back to Elliot. 

"This is F Society. I come here sometimes when I need to be alone. To work." Elliot explained. He sounded so casual, like everyone had there own arcade to just relax in. The tall Swede scoffed and grinned, gazing around the room again before his eyes landed on the computers. There was some black screen up with some coding or digital make up on it. Tyrell furrowed his brows. 

"What are you working on, Elliot?" The star lacrosse player asked, carefully and confusedly. He watched Elliot's movements, seeing the nervousness flitting back and forth through his blue eyes. He stepped closer, gulping and pinching his fists together. He looked around the room, coming to his senses and taking a deep breath. Elliot looked up at Tyrell with his mouth parted and eyes narrowed, like he was visibly testing Tyrell. The loner closed his mouth and looked around again, finally opening his mouth to talk. To explain whatever this was. 

"I wanted you to see this because... I need to know if I can trust you, Tyrell." He stated. His voice sounded rushed, like he was implying something top secret but had a limited amount of time to do it. Tyrell stepped closer, bringing his hands up to cup Elliot's jaw and look deeply into the shorter boy's pale eyes. He watched him. 

"I will only be loyal to you, Elliot." 

And with that Elliot tilted his head back, making sure the Swede wasn't lying. Elliot nodded and grabbed Tyrell's wrists, sliding them off his face and holding them firmly in his grasp. His eyes flicked back and forth between Tyrell's and they stood quiet for what felt like hours to Tyrell. The soft glow from the neon signs put Elliot under a new light, one that showed Tyrell that maybe he wasn't the only crazy one here. The shorter boy under these glowing red lights made Tyrell think of all the things he wanted to do to Elliot. All the things he thought of that night when Joanna told him she was pregnant. Elliot looked so cocky now, so in tune and fully charged. Tyrell fucking loved this side of Elliot. His face tilted so dominantly as he looked down onto the shorter boy, waiting for him to speak again. 

"Okay. What I'm about to tell you is top secret. It's the biggest conspiracy I've ever come across and I need to know you'll help me." Elliot stated, slowly and with widened eyes. Tyrell furrowed his brows, feeling his stomach drop and his heart beat harder. 

Seeing Elliot like this reminded Tyrell of when he smashed Santiago's face in. The pure emotion he felt, this was the same manic look he had in his eye when he realized what he had done. The raw feel of power and disobedience that lead him to this moment, it was scary how intense this felt. Like Elliot was onto something bigger than any and everyone. Like he was in the eye of a devastating storm that would destroy anything in it's path. And when Tyrell looked back onto Elliot's face, he saw a look he'd never seen before. Something dark. 

And he could've sworn, for just a second, that Elliot looked insane. Like someone else entirely. 

xx


End file.
